


Old Things and New

by Purplechimera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Café, M/M, Meet-Cute, Restoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplechimera/pseuds/Purplechimera
Summary: Sirius breaks an antique chair, and the guy he hired to restore it sure is cute.





	Old Things and New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Inspired by Ame's meet-cute idea inspired by her trip to Edinburgh. Inspire-ception.

A loud crash and a string of curses pulled Regulus’ attention from the baguettes he was transferring to cooling racks. Through the window of the cafe’s kitchen, he could see Sirius getting the front of house ready for the day. Well, attempting to, anyway. He seemed to be struggling with a chair.

 

“Bloody-stupid-”

 

There was a thump, and Sirius disappeared behind a table. Sighing, Regulus unloaded the last baguette from its baking sheet, wiped his hands on his apron, and made his way to the front of house. He peered down at his brother, one eyebrow raised. “What  _ are _ you doing?”

 

Sirius disentangled himself from the chair. “Why do we have these bloody ridiculous chairs again?”

 

Regulus glanced around at the antique chairs, all ornately carved with birds and fruits. “You’re the one who insisted on having Mum’s things be useful.” He put on a mocking voice. “The aesthetic, Reg! Everyone likes old things these days! People will love to Snapchat about sitting in a chair that’s a hundred years old.”

 

“Well, no one will be sitting in this one,” Sirius grumbled, holding up the arm of the chair, which had snapped off.

 

“Guess you have your homework for the day, then,” Regulus declared, turning on his heel and striding back toward the kitchen.

 

“What?” Sirius was following him very closely, brandishing the broken chair arm like a wand. Regulus stopped in the doorway.

 

“One. You are still not allowed in the kitchen. Two. You need to find a restoration company to fix the chair. Three. Your hair is a mess, and it’s time to open.” The kitchen door swung shut, and Sirius ran to check his hair in the mirror.

 

“I hear you sniggering!”

 

“Unlock the doors!”

 

It wasn’t until after the morning rush that Sirius got a chance to search for someone to fix the chair. He quickly found  _ Remus Interiors _ , with hundreds of positive reviews and only a two streets over. After checking that his assistant, Lily, was settled in to handle anyone who might come in for brunch, Sirius headed over.

 

There were several antique armchairs on display in the windows, and a little bell tinkled when Sirius opened the door.

 

“Be right wi’ ye!” called a voice, and after a moment, Sirius’ brain short circuited. In strode a tall man, his hair and his skin matching the woods around them. The man leaned on the counter and smiled; Sirius noticed that his forearms were covered in tiny white scars. “Hallo, how can I help ye?”

 

Sirius blinked. “I broke a chair.”

 

The man smiled wider. “Well, then, I do hope it’s a rather old chair, as old, broken chairs are my favorite kind.”

 

Sirius placed the broken arm on the counter. The man picked it up, turning it as he examined the carvings, as well as the breaks. 

 

“Do ye have the rest?”

 

“The rest?”

 

The man’s eyes, which were a warm mahogany, twinkled. “Unless you would like me to try to recreate it, I’ll be needin’ the rest o’ the chair to attach the arm to.”

 

Sirius felt his cheeks heat. “Right. It’s...back at the cafe.” 

 

Now, the man gave him an odd look. “This...is an antique chair, yeah?”

 

Sirius nodded. “It’s French.” Then, with the air of a resigned school boy, he added, “My great-grandfather had them commissioned for our family dining room just before the War.”

 

“Right. Well, if you’d like to bring the rest of the chair, I can take a look and give you a quote, Mr….?”

 

“Sirius.” He held out his hand, his brain  _ finally _ seeming to function properly. “Just Sirius.”

 

The man smiled again, and shook his hand. “Alright then, Just Sirius. I’m Remus.”

 

Sirius’ eyes automatically darted up to the wall, where  _ Remus Interiors _ was emblazoned in light blue.

 

Remus chuckled. “Indeed, the one and only Remus.”

 

By the time Sirius was back at the cafe, he was equally thrilled and angry with himself. How could he get so tripped up by a man? Even if all he wanted to do was bury his fingers in Remus’ curls and snog him.

 

He barely even waved at Lily, who was reading a book behind the counter. The rest of the broken chair had been shoved into the supply closet, and Sirius only paused to hold open the cafe door to a pair of very giggly girls before heading off again.

 

This time, Remus was in the lobby, and he held open the door for Sirius, then immediately began examining the chair.

 

“It’s been ages since I’ve gotten a chance to work on anything French,” he said, examining the underside of the seat. Remus gasped, and began chattering on about some French furniture designer or another, and all different kinds of adhesives. Sirius wasn’t listening. He was admiring the way Remus’ trousers clung to him as he bent over the chair. “It will probably take me about three weeks,” Remus declared, eventually.

 

“Three weeks??”

 

“Aye. I have to make the adhesive and it takes a bit o’ time.” He paused, eyeing Sirius uncertainly. “I could give ye a call, when it’s ready?”

 

“Right, of-of course.” Sirius filled out the paperwork and left the shop in a daze.

 

~~

 

A week later, Sirius came in from his break to see Lily and Regulus whispering. He eyed them suspiciously, but began wiping down the tables.

 

“The chair-”

 

“It’s got to be something else,” hissed Regulus. “He’s never cared about the family things, before.”

 

This table was going to be the cleanest one in the cafe.

 

~~~

 

“Reg? Where’s the cuckoo clock?” Sirius was half in the closet, muffled by winter coats. Regulus looked up from his book.

 

“You hate that clock.”

 

“But it’s broken. We should get it repaired.”

 

Regulus watched his brother wander around the flat, opening cabinets and closets seemingly at random. “It’s in my room. I put it in there since you were very insistent that if you ever saw it again, you would throw it away.”

 

With a triumphant shout, Sirius raced toward Regulus’ room. There was a scramble as Regulus realized what was happening and attempted to stop it, and they both went crashing into a desk.

 

“The desk!” Sirius shrieked with glee.

 

Regulus rose and dusted himself off. “The desk is fine, strange person who has replaced my brother.”

 

“Didn’t it have a secret compartment?”

 

“You always insisted that.” Regulus stepped over Sirius, who was still lying on the floor, and carefully extracted the cuckoo clock from his closet. “I’m not going to argue with your sudden interest in preservation.” He placed the clock on top of the desk, stepped back over Sirius, and settled himself back on the sofa with his book.

 

~~~

 

“Hallo, Sirius! Your chair still-”

 

Sirius placed the cuckoo clock on the counter. “It’s broken.”

 

Remus, his mouth still parted, stared down at the clock. “That is usually why people bring me things.” He carefully turned it over and opened the back. “I’m not extremely knowledgeable on clocks, but I do know someone…” he trailed off. “Oh. Your chain’s come off the gears.” He fixed it and handed the clock back to Sirius. “No charge.”

 

Sirius accepted it, feeling mildly disappointed. “Oh. Thanks.” They looked at each other for several seconds before Sirius mumbled, “see you later,” and trudged out of the shop.

 

~~~

 

“Sirius, you’re going to kill yourself.” Regulus watched from the sofa as his brother attempted to push their late father’s writing desk across the flat.

 

“I’m-fine-Reg,” Sirius panted. “Nearly-there!”

 

“You haven’t moved five centimeters. That desk probably weighs 90 kilos.” Regulus turned the page of his book. “Why do you suddenly need to know if it has a secret compartment?”

 

Sirius collapsed against the desk, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Come on, Reg! Don’t you want to know what kind of secrets Orion kept in a hidden drawer?”

 

Regulus closed his eyes, but Sirius could tell he was fighting with himself. “I just don’t understand why you’re suddenly interested after Father’s been dead for nearly ten years.”

 

“Well I didn’t have access to it until now!”

 

“Sirius…that desk has been exactly there for three years. You threw a fit that I wanted to keep it. What is really going on?”

 

Sirius bit his lip and became suddenly interested in the rug.

 

~~~

 

After the usual morning rush, Sirius sat behind the counter, sulking. He was quickly running out of excuses to see Remus. Why had he been so hasty in throwing out his parents’ things? He was in the middle of berating himself when the cafe door opened and Remus strolled in.

 

“Ah, Sirius! Just the person I was hoping to see.”

 

Sirius’ stomach flipped over.

 

“Do you happen to have-” Remus glanced around the cafe. “Aye, you have several! Do you mind-?” Without really waiting for an answer, Remus strode over to an unoccupied chair and began examining it. Sirius opened and closed his mouth, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the interaction, or Remus himself. 

 

After a few moments, Remus began wandering around the cafe, admiring and commenting on the various antiques. Sirius dutifully recited everything he remembered from his childhood drills-which admittedly was not very much-before caving and fetching his brother.

 

By the time Lily came in, Regulus and Remus were deep in a conversation about something. Remus kept trying to rope Sirius into the conversation. She leaned across the counter. “So.”

 

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “So.” 

 

For several heartbeats, Sirius felt as though he was being x-rayed. Then Lily smiled and gently punched him in the arm. “Go on, then,” she muttered, and bustled off to the back. 

 

Sirius blinked after her for a moment; then Remus appeared.

 

“Thank you for letting me come in. I had thought there was a piece missing, and-” Remus paused, then seemed to refocus. “You...don’t care, do you.”

 

Sirius bit his lip. “Antiques are not my favorite.”

 

Remus laughed, and this time, when he leaned on the counter they ended up nearly nose to nose. “And yet, you let me ramble on about them.” They stared at each other, and Sirius could feel his cheeks heating. Remus grinned at him. “May I ramble on about antiques over dinner?”

 

Sirius grinned back. “I’d love that.”


End file.
